


Evidence of Things Not Seen

by Realmer06



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Discorporation (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 18:16:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19469455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Realmer06/pseuds/Realmer06
Summary: When Aziraphale shows up at the pub, discorporated, he can't actually see Crowley's grief. He can't see Crowley at all. But he can hear it. And he can feel it. And something must be done.





	Evidence of Things Not Seen

**Author's Note:**

> I have fallen hard down the rabbit hole of Good Omens. It was only a matter of time before fic came out.
> 
> Based on the notion that Aziraphale, while discorporated, cannot actually see Crowley in the pub. He can only hear the anguish his friend is in.

It’s not a pleasant trip, back down to Earth. He’s never been without a body before, and he’s not used to leaving Heaven through such unconventional means.

There is a moment when he’s genuinely afraid that he’s going to lose himself, dissipate into so thin a version of himself that he will not be able to summon enough of his essence together in one spot to exist again. He’s too scattered, too distracted. He needs a focus, something, some place, someone to hold onto. Something that _means_ something.

The intention is the bookshop. He closes eyes he doesn’t have and focuses on his storefront and his precious books, conjuring memories to pull himself together. But the memories that come to the forefront of his mind are not, as it happens, primarily memories of the bookshop. Instead, it is _Crowley_ that leaps to mind. 

Crowley, drunkenly talking about dolphins and _The Sound of Music_. Crowley, standing outside the door with a box of chocolates. Crowley, making some mocking comment about bebop. The books in the Blitz. Miracling away the paint on his coat. Asking him to run away to Alpha Centauri. 

Perhaps it is because he was thinking of demons and the ability to possess mortals. Perhaps it is because Crowley has made up so many wonderful memories at the shop. Perhaps it is something else entirely, something external. But when he finds his focus and pulls himself together into some semblance of existence, it’s not the bookshop that has grounded him. He’s not enough of himself to actually _see_ his surroundings; he can’t tell where he is. But he can tell what’s holding him in place.

_Crowley_. 

He can’t see the demon, either, but he can hear him, and he can _feel_ him, and the ache and heartbreak radiating off of his -- friend -- is staggering, and threatens to unseat him and send him loose in the universe once more. 

“Aziraphale?” the demon asks, and Aziraphale holds tight to his voice, using it as an anchor until he can find something better. If such a thing exists. “Are you here?”

“Good question,” he replies, keeping himself to short, clipped sentences as he tries to get Crowley to come into focus. If he could just _see_ him… “Not certain. Never done this before. Can you hear me?”

He needs to know that he’s getting through, that he’s not alone. That Crowley is aware of how hard he is trying to get back.

“Did you go to Alpha Centauri?” he can’t help but ask. He tells himself that it’s important to know because if Crowley isn’t on Earth, then his job is that much harder. But deep down, he knows that isn’t really why he’s asking. He wants to know if Crowley was really able to go through with it, really able to turn his back on humanity, on Earth, on Aziraphale, and leave them all behind to save his own skin. 

But when Crowley says, “No,” it’s not with his usual nonchalance. The word wavers so badly Aziraphale can almost see it, even though he still can’t see the demon, and when he finishes with “I lost my best friend,” Aziraphale knows that Crowley is definitely crying and definitely drunk, and he _cannot_ let himself think about what has happened to put his demon in such a state.

_How long have we been friends?_ Crowley had asked in the bandstand. Long enough to be best friends. Long enough to be far more than that. But he _cannot_ dwell on that now.

“I’m so sorry to hear it,” he says softly, then changes the subject because it’s the only way he can think of to keep himself grounded. 

When Crowley tells him the bookshop is gone, burned down, he almost loses hold again. He doesn’t know how much more he can lose today -- his shop, his body, the solid foundation of Crowley’s unshakable swagger and confidence. And he definitely doesn’t know how to handle the mingled gentleness and grief in Crowley’s voice, so he focuses instead on coming up with another plan, on remembering everything of importance that he wrote down from Agnes’s book, so that it can still help them.

But Crowley, wonderful, impulsive, impossible Crowley, picked it up from the shop without knowing what he had. He calls it a _souvenir_ , and the hope in his voice fills Aziraphale with new energy. All is not lost. And if he can leave what he knows with Crowley -- what he should have done from the beginning, instead of trusting in the archangels of Heaven like a fool -- they are twice as likely to succeed.

If, that is, he can convince Crowley to sober up and get himself to Tadfield. 

“Wherever you are, I can come to you,” the demon swears, and Aziraphale’s heart swells and there’s lump in his nonexistent throat. Hours ago, he was talking about running away. Now he’s vowing to seek Aziraphale out. If only Aziraphale had a body to seek out. 

So he sends Crowley to Tadfield Airbase, promises to find a receptive body, and throws in the phrase “get a wiggle-on” because he knows Crowley will hate it. He almost smiles, hearing the disdain in the demon’s voice as he repeats the phrase, mocking the angel. He sounds like the old Crowley, and the old Crowley is what they need now.

But this _new_ Crowley, with his heart on his sleeve, and his emotions in his voice for all the world to hear . . . Aziraphale never wants to hear his demon sound so broken again. But the Crowley who’s willing to talk so openly about what he feels, the Crowley who feels Aziraphale’s loss so keenly that it called the angel to him across Heaven and Earth . . . 

Well. Aziraphale will confront that Crowley when all of this is over. But right now, they have an antichrist to find, a side to claim, and a world to save.

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider leaving a review.


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